Juliet and the Bard
by ElocinMuse
Summary: There were things in her life that she'd been holding onto. Things that she was slowly realizing she didn't need to feel good about herself, after all. She really only had one person to thank. / A series of oneshots involving Juliet and Mr. Carpenter.
1. Bullies

**Author's Note:** So, like the description says, this entry will entail a series of oneshots devoted to the Juliet/Mr. Carpenter relationship. Carpenter will be played by Jason Dohring on the show, and his first episode will be October 18th. There will be no particular order to these, necessarily. As of right now, I have about four oneshots written, and will no doubt continue to add on to the collection. They will have very little (if any) romantic connotations, however. I'm sticking with the brother-figure, mentor angle. I'll let you guys know if that changes. However, since the writers did reveal that Juliet WOULD be harboring feelings for Carpenter, I'm sure you can expect certain undertones from me in these drabbles at the very least. Plus, as usual, you guys are up to interpret however you like. ;P

This one specifically would take place after Carpenter "rescues" Juliet from a bully at her new school. This is all guesswork on my part, since the episode hasn't aired yet, and no one's sure how the scene of him rescuing her actually goes down. (Again, sorry, once the episode actually airs, some characters might be slightly OOC. All guesswork, remember.)

* * *

><p>Two chairs faced across from the principal's desk in Ms. Edgar's office. In the one on the right sat Juliet, looking positively livid and making no effort to hide it. Ms. Edgar arched a stern eyebrow as her shrewd gaze swept over the girl appraisingly. "Do you realize how much trouble you're in, Miss Martin?"<p>

"Are you serious?" Juliet spat out venomously. It was her first day and she was already in the shithouse. And for something that wasn't even her fault. There was no justice.

"Starting fights?"

Juliet glared, but a loud bark of laughter emitted from the individual in the chair on the left.

"Defending one's self against the terminally stupid teenage boy holding her down on the ground," Mr. Carpenter recited with a mirthless snort. "Edgar, you can't really be considering punishment here."

Ms. Edgar was clearly surprised. "Are you forgetting that Miss Martin also struck _you_, Mr. Carpenter?"

"That was a misunderstanding. I grabbed her arm to help her out of the way once Jared was incapacitated. She took it to be one of his friends coming after her. Honest mistake."

"She gave you a black eye," Ms. Edgar insisted.

"Which will heal in about a week," Carpenter replied, clearly at a loss on its relevance. The subject of the principal's reasoning seemed to flummox him in general. "You really think I'm going to press charges against a seventeen year old girl for socking me in the face? When she was just trying to defend herself?"

Ms. Edgar pursed her lips, conceding the fact. "And your handling of Mr. Adamson? A _student_?" she inquired. "From what I hear, he was rather shook up and had to be taken to the school nurse."

"He deserved it," Juliet interjected, looking harried. Besides, she was the one who had given _Jarhead_ the bloody lip and broken nose.

Carpenter appeared relaxed, however, looking unprovoked and untouchably calm in his seat. "I pulled him off of Miss Martin and restrained him. Does that qualify as being _shook up_, these days? If Mr. Adamson would like to file a complaint against me, I'm here from eight to five every weekday."

Ms. Edgar frowned. "From the sounds of his squawking, he might."

"Then let the record show that Jared Adamson needs to grow a set."

Juliet tried to disguise her stunned burst of laughter behind a cough. Ms. Edgar merely sighed, massaging her temple briefly. "Very well," she said. "Miss Martin… frankly, I'm not _sure_ what to do with you. Tread carefully these next few weeks, please? Mr. Adamson's parents are very opinionated, and very rich. A hazardous combination when incited. The fewer headaches that make it past my door, the better." Ms. Edgar glanced witheringly at the clock over all their heads. "I suppose this conference is adjourned. Get out, both of you." She pressed her intercom with an air of eternal forbearance. "Beverly, please send in Mr. Adamson when he arrives."

* * *

><p>Carpenter exited the office, reflecting upon the sheer lunacy that sometimes masqueraded as the school system. He halted though in his tracks at the loud banging coming from the small alcove in the hallway. He watched as Juliet pounded relentlessly on the vending machine, shaking it in frustration when it appeared to ignore her wishes. His forehead wrinkled in bemusement, and the tiny little thing let out a curse and glared through the glass as though she could intimidate the items out of it.<p>

"Troubles?" Carpenter asked.

Juliet spared him a glance. "Yeah, this piece of crap ate my money. And that piece of crap in the principal's office ruined my lunch hour, so…" she trailed off, shrugging irately. She resigned herself to the loud protests of her empty stomach the remainder of the day.

Carpenter looked a little amused, but sympathetic towards her plight. "Yeah, I gathered. I seem to recall such events. Even picked up a souvenir." He dryly indicated the faint bruise on his face, but grinned ruefully. "It appears we share the same attitude towards bullies." To her surprise, he'd dug his wallet out of his back pocket, retrieving a couple fives. "Here," he said, extending them to her. "There's a deli across the street. Why don't you go get some real food?"

Juliet stared at him a little blankly, unconsciously accepting the bills. "I, uh, have a class," she started to say, knowing that she was already late as it was for whatever period beckoned her. Normally, she wouldn't care in the slightest, but she'd decided to at least put up a minimal effort to cause less trouble for what was left of the day.

Carpenter gave her a perceptive smile. "Juliet Martin, right? Yeah, you have my class right now." He glanced at his watch. "I think you can be to the deli and back by quarter after." He winked conspiratorially. "You have my permission. Amscray." He turned away, starting off towards his room before calling over his shoulder. "And look both ways before crossing, will you? My conscience would suffer a huge blow to its morale after having rescued you from Adamson only to have you get hit by a bus."

Juliet snorted, looking down at the money in her hand, only to suddenly then feel a swell of irritation at his comment. He hadn't _rescued_ her!

If he'd only waited a minute, he would have been rescuing that dumbass from _her_. Alas, the Lit instructor apparently had reservations with standing idly by as a hapless teenage girl took on a harem of bullies by herself. Decent of him, if damn annoying.

Squaring her shoulders and scowling after the young teacher, Juliet turned on her flats and tromped out the door for the deli. Secretly thrilling at the promise of a turkey sub.

Secretly curious about what was to come when she returned in fifteen minutes and to the class that awaited her.


	2. Having Something

**Author's note:** Again, no real order to these oneshots.

**Written:** before October 18th (Carpenter's debut)

* * *

><p>Juliet stormed out of the classroom and across the hall to the row of lockers. She sunk to the floor and leaned back against them, stewing in angry, frustrated silence.<p>

She wasn't all that surprised to see him following after her a moment later, sliding calmly down next to her. What did surprise her was the small, almost secret swell of gratitude that grew inside her. Neither of them said anything for awhile.

"Didn't you get the memo?" Juliet asked, somewhat bitterly. "I'm a train wreck and won't last here another month."

Carpenter considered this, thinking. "I'm inclined to ignore them and give you a shot. I think you've got something."

Juliet felt a flare of stubborn, wounded pride flare up in her chest. "What do you know about me?" she snapped.

"Enough," he replied easily. When she didn't appear to buy it, he turned his head and told her, suddenly serious, "I know you stuck up for that freshman against those bullies when everyone else stood there and laughed, or were too afraid." His dark eyes were intense, and yet there was a gentle layer of understanding that nearly undid her. Juliet stared back, not able to speak. "That's all I need to know."

He looked over her a minute longer, then got to his feet and walked back to his class.

Juliet sat, alone in the hallway, a part of her soul that wasn't lost longing to follow him back.


	3. Second Chances

**Author's Note:** No order.

**Written:** before October 18th. (Carpenter's debut)

* * *

><p>Juliet fidgeted and rocked back on her heels as she waited for Carpenter to finish his perusal of her essay. His brow was knit in concentration, mouth forming a thin line as his gaze swept expertly over the words.<p>

"This is actually very good," he murmured.

"Yeah?" Juliet relaxed. "Well, it wasn't easy—"

"No, I imagine it wasn't. I've already recognized excerpts from at least eight different articles."

Juliet's face fell. "Seriously?"

Carpenter looked up, smiling ruefully. "Photographic memory," he explained, tapping a finger on his temple. "Sorry."

Juliet felt a cold wash of disappointment fill her. "So—what now? I fail?"

His stare returned to the essay, contemplating what he was seeing. "Well, this is certainly a qualified epic fail, as your people call it."

Juliet snorted, crossing her arms tightly and looking away.

"You know…" Carpenter began, thoughtful, "if you had put half the effort towards writing the essay as you did piecing this one together, I guarantee you would have earned at least a B."

Her eyes darted back to his, expression wary. "Really?"

Her tone was skeptical. Carpenter shrugged. "Really. I wasn't lying—this is great work. How long did it take you?"

It was Juliet's turn to shrug. "Three hours," she mumbled.

He smiled. "Even less than I thought. Virtually seamless," he went on, shaking his head at the paper before looking back at her. "So why plagiarize when, clearly, you have the ability to succeed on your own?"

Juliet frowned, gaze retreating to her feet. "I didn't know what to write about."

Carpenter regarded her quizzically. "The topic was fairly specific."

"I know," Juliet huffed. "I guess I was just embarrassed. I don't like sharing things with people. At least things about me."

Carpenter shook his head, expression one of genuine sincerity. "I wouldn't have shared your essay with the class or anyone else."

Juliet lifted one shoulder uncomfortably. "You'd see it."

There was a pause, and the corners of his mouth curled upward just barely. "So make something up."

"What?"

"The essay didn't require strict non-fiction. I should have been more specific—would have saved a lot of trouble. Make something up."

Juliet was surprised. "Really?"

Carpenter nodded, handing her back the forged essay. "Tell you what, I'll give you three days to come up with a new one."

Juliet took the paper, at a loss for words. Carpenter went on.

"And if you need help, don't be afraid to ask for it. Friends, parents, even me."

Juliet quickly shook her head. "I don't think it'd be a good idea to involve my friends," she said vaguely, thinking how all her friends, for one, didn't attend this school, and weren't that great of an influence to begin with. "And I can't ask my dad or Siobhan."

"Why not?"

"I just… can't."

He smiled slightly. "You never know, they might surprise you."

"I doubt it," she muttered.

"And me?"

Juliet looked up at him. After awhile, she narrowed her eyes. Banter was always a welcome alternative to reaching any sort of truths. Especially for her. "I haven't decided on you yet."

Carpenter laughed. "Fair enough." He indicated the paper. "Get to work, Martin. Impress me."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir."

Carpenter ignored the little jab. "I eagerly await what wonders you'll bring me." He shooed at her then. "Now, go forth and graze, with the rest of your peers. And try not to call out any more bullies, if you can manage that. I have things to do—none of which include being your crime-fighting sidekick."

Juliet's laughter trickled out of the room with her as she went. She waved dismissively at him over her shoulder without a second glance, essay clutched tightly in her other hand.


	4. Lunch Hour

**Author's Note:** Once again, there's no particular order or time to these little bad boys. They can take place pretty much whenever you want.

And thanks for the reviews, guys! I really love Bridget/Andrew too, so I'm going to hopefully have something for them one of these days.

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><p>She tested the knob. Seeing it was unlocked, she felt an innate sense of relief and entered the room which had become her sanctuary during her brief enrollment at Zachary Senior High. Juliet smiled a little to the empty, silent room, glad for the peace and quiet. She headed for her usual seat to finish her lunch—and stopped in her tracks when she saw Carpenter look up from his desk.<p>

"Juliet?"

"Oh—hey. Um… sorry. I didn't think anyone was here, so…" she trailed off, brow knitting. "Don't you teachers usually have a lounge or something?"

Carpenter's lips quirked upward at her watered down 'deer in headlights' expression. "We do. I had some work to get done, though." He eyed her quizzically and, Juliet noticed, a little suspiciously. "Don't you students have a cafeteria or something?"

Juliet bit her lip. "Yeah."

"You weren't dared to sneak in here and hide all my chalk, were you?"

Juliet regarded him somewhat amusedly, suspecting there was a reason he was wary of this. "No," she assured him. "I would actually need friends for that. Your chalk is safe."

His expression softened a little, but not to the point of actual pity. He knew she wouldn't appreciate that. "Right."

Juliet cleared her throat, taking a tentative step forward and shooting him a hopeful look. "Anyways, the cafeteria was annoying me, so… I thought I'd sneak off and eat my turkey club in peace. Plus I have that book to finish that you assigned us."

Carpenter gestured to Juliet's usual desk with a smile. "By all means."

Not needing further encouragement, Juliet was plopped in her seat moments later, digging into her lunch and her reading material.

They sat in comfortable silence for ten minutes or so, each tending to their own tasks and meals. Juliet read while simultaneously taking bites out of her sandwich. Carpenter alternated between grading papers and his coffee.

The Giver wasn't a bad book, Juliet thought. It was a little unconventional—controversial even, maybe. But then, readings for such classes often were. Nevertheless, stereotypes aside, it was holding her interest. Sure, there were things she'd rather be doing than have to learn all the archetypes of fictional characters she wasn't quite attached to yet. But even so… she'd long ago accepted the merits of schooling, no matter how drone or seemingly insignificant. And she didn't really mind the assignments this teacher gave. They were usually engaging and sometimes even exciting to work through.

No, her Lit teacher's class definitely wasn't one of the boring ones, and for that, Juliet was a little grateful too. Anything that made her school day less of a drag merited high marks of approval.

It was then that she heard the strange emanations of music and small heated voices trilling quietly from the head of the room. She was slow to notice it at first, as it was turned down so soft, but it wasn't too long before Juliet was glancing up over her book, curiosity piqued.

She waited, listening.

She was sure it was coming from Carpenter's desk, but could think of no reason for it. Last she'd seen, he'd been periodically flipping through papers and scribbling down notes. Except his gradebook was closed and now sitting off to the side of his desk. And Carpenter was staring down at the wood's surface in front of him, his fingers working away at something out of sight while he still sipped at his coffee. There was a small crease of frustration between his brows as he focused on whatever was holding his attention.

Juliet concentrated, now completely forgetting about her book as she watched him. More sounds carried her way, and Juliet had to lean forward a little, turning her ear ahead, to catch them. There was a tiny crash, then chorus of triumph.

Juliet nearly laughed aloud. "C, are you playing Angry Birds?"

Carpenter's dark eyes darted up almost guiltily at her unexpected question breaking the silence. His fingers now hovered hesitantly over what she now recognized to be his phone.

Juliet made no effort to hide her Cheshire grin.

"It's," Carpenter started to say, and she watched as the highly skilled Lit teacher searched for any intelligible explanation or excuse. "Addictive," he finally settled with, a little defensively.

Juliet snickered, shoulders quaking with more silent laughter as she went back to her book. She hid behind the binding, in an effort to escape Carpenter's pitifully quelling look. He cleared his throat and a moment later, the game's sound effects ceased. Juliet pressed her lips together tightly and waited, not daring to comment.

When she finally got up the courage to brave a peak over the top of her book, she saw Carpenter reclined back in his seat, a book of his own balanced between one hand and his elbow. Instead of the book, though, he was looking at her through narrowed eyes. But there was a bright sheen to them and his lips twitched with obvious effort to repress anything remotely resembling a smile.

Unable to stop herself, Juliet finally gave in to the laughter that bubbled out of her.

Carpenter turned back to his newly acquired book, a ghost of a grin skipping noticeably across his face. "This information is not to leave this room, Miss Martin."

She muffled her humor behind her hand, not looking at him. "Absolutely."

"Or I'll make you wear a cone on your head that reads D-U-N-C-E down the front of it. Don't think I'm above it."

"Not a word," she vowed, though the continued mirth in her voice belied any real sincerity. It wasn't like 'CarpenterPlaysAngryBirds' would be trending tonight on Twitter or anything.

As if he could read her mind, Carpenter shot her a look from the tops of his eyes as he read, a real smile splitting his cheeks. "I'm locking my door tomorrow."

Juliet offered him an eye-crinkling grin, reveling in her own sinister ideas. _Carpenter's pastime going viral_, she thought evilly. But really, it wouldn't. Because, like she'd said earlier, she actually needed friends to have inside jokes or to laugh over their funny instructors on social sites.

No, some things would stay just between them, like everything else lately. The two of them had their own inside jokes, and Juliet was okay with that.

She smiled and went back to her book, her lunch hour significantly brightened.

They spent the rest of the hour in resumed silence, each reading their own respective texts. When the bell rang, Juliet gathered her things and rose for the door.

"Bye, Julie."

"Later, Mr. C."

Tomorrow, she'd find his door wouldn't be locked after all.


	5. Disappointment

**Author's Note:** So... I said to myself in starting these oneshots that I would absolutely not give Carpenter a first name until they revealed it on the show. But, alas, the situation sort of called for it, so... here we are. Let it also be known that I eliminated this one out of about 20 haha. I hate naming characters that don't belong to me, is the moral of the story. But I did it anyway. My bad if you don't like it.

Once again, no particular order to these oneshots, and nine times out of ten, they bear no relation to each other.

Andrew/Bridget fans: Here's your bone, guys! :D

So... we had some humor and some fluff. Bring on the angst.

* * *

><p>As though an outsider looking in at her own body, Juliet went through the motions in disjointed half-awareness. She'd missed her first two classes completely, not bothering to arrive until later into the day. Last night, she'd had another fight with her father and deigned to not even go home at all—instead she stayed at a friend's house and partied until she couldn't see straight. It had all lasted until dawn, and the effects of whatever 'party favor' she'd indulged in had still not yet ebbed from her system.<p>

She was slouched in her seat by the time Carpenter was wrapping up his lecture, somehow managing to hold her attention even as her eyelids drooped low. Throughout most of the hour, she'd doodled incoherent thoughts and images on her notepad paper, a quirk set to her mouth as she occasionally found things funny that probably weren't intended to be.

When the other students began filing out, the bell blaring loudly at her from all angles, Juliet realized class had ended. She scrubbed a hand over her forehead, dragging herself to her feet with a lamenting sigh. Carpenter met her eyes and offered her a smile.

He always had a habit of cheering her up—useful in times such as these, she'd discovered. Maybe he could get her mind off how she wasn't going to be able to see her mother for Thanksgiving. Or how her father was back to firmly not trusting her.

Juliet half-trotted, half-skipped up to his desk, a little unsteady on her feet but plastering a smile on her face. "Riveting, as always," she told him with a tone of loyal solemnity.

Carpenter chuckled. "I could tell by the way your eyes were glazed over that I had you hanging on every word," he replied, a note of sarcasm in his voice. Juliet knew he wasn't really annoyed.

"I caught most of it," she lied. "I was distracted."

"Uh huh." He nodded, not buying it, but smiling anyhow. "Maybe we should get the school board to consider cutting down the curriculum to just cliff notes," he suggested jovially. Juliet had half a mind to point out that such an idea wasn't an adverse one, but was too focused on suppressing her sour mood and floating vision. "So—Thanksgiving break? Plans? Excitement? Dread?"

Juliet gave an airy laugh, shifting her weight a little too quickly and bumping into his desk. Carpenter's brow quirked, but he didn't comment. "Thanksgiving, yeah. Fun times. There's a turkey involved, right?"

"Traditionally," he agreed slowly, after a pause.

"Usually dead, too." Juliet snorted, scratching at her face while her gaze strayed around the room. "Why should my Thanksgiving be any better than the bird's?"

Oh, she had his attention now. "Juliet."

"Yeah?" she replied brightly, still glancing around.

Carpenter frowned. "Look at me," he ordered softly, with an intensity that made her suddenly nervous. Concern and something else flashed in his gaze as he took in her red-rimmed eyes, saucer-shaped pupils, and unsteady footing.

"What?"

A muscle tightened in his jaw, and he said in a low, curt voice, "You're high right now." It wasn't a question.

Juliet instantly tensed, rushing to deny it. "I… no I'm not. What are you talking about?" A part of her bristled defensively at his terrifyingly astute observation, but there was a bigger part of her that was feeling very alarmed and feared what his reaction might be.

"Cut the crap, if you don't mind. I'm not an idiot," Carpenter said, decidedly not happy. "Did you drive like this?"

Juliet averted her eyes, suddenly, inexplicably self-conscious. "I didn't have a ride, so, yeah…"

Carpenter swore softly, surprising her. He looked away, running a hand through his hair. Juliet found herself wishing at that moment for the floor to swallow her up. He shook his head, gaze returning to her despairingly. "You know I have to tell someone about this."

Her heart lurched up into her throat. "What? No, you can't!" she protested, voice rising an octave higher. She reached out to him, a note of pleading inflecting her cries. "C, don't—please, you can't tell… I…"

He stared hard at her, silently sorting through all available options as she struggled for words. Juliet felt her eyes water at the look he was giving her.

Finally, his jaw set in grim resignation, he reached around his desk and seized his coat from the chair. "Come on," he said, voice flat.

Juliet's shoulders wilted a little, as she asked in a small voice, "Where are we going?"

He put a hand on her shoulder and propelled her towards the door. "I'm taking you home."

Juliet nodded, saying nothing, and not knowing what else to do.

* * *

><p>He'd helped her into his car and ordered her to stay put until he returned. She'd been waiting all of ten minutes before his door was opening and slamming a second later once he was in.<p>

"Here." He began handing her things; first, a bottle of water and container of orange juice. "Drink these." Then, a file folder, which he tersely explained held all of her assignments for that day. When Juliet could only stare mutely at the things in her lap, he spoke again. "You have to get fluids into your system."

Juliet sniffled, battling the threat of tears. She nodded weakly, fumbling for her seatbelt as he started the car. His voice was cold to her, something she wasn't used to and something she didn't think she could handle much more of.

He asked her mechanically where to go, and Juliet responded in near the same manner. "What did you take?" he asked when they were out of the parking lot.

Juliet hugged herself tightly, curling up against the side passenger panel. "I don't know. Oxy-something."

"God, Juliet," Carpenter grimaced, not taking his eyes off the road. He sounded subdued and perhaps a little disillusioned.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the beginnings of hot tears tracking their way down her cheeks.

He turned his head to look at her, frustration and that something else etched plainly in his features. "_Are_ you?"

Juliet didn't reply, any answer escaping her.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, almost to himself. "Taking anything in the first place… but then driving in your condition? Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in? And everyone around you? Juliet, drink something."

Juliet silently complied, going with the water first. She turned her tear-stained face to the window, unable to bear the look on his face any longer. She swallowed with difficulty, throat already choked with tears. Her bottom lip quavered when she twisted the cap back on. "You have to turn left here," she managed out timidly, voice suddenly hoarse.

Without another word, he followed her directions.

The rest of the ride was spent in tense silence. Throughout most of that time, Juliet stayed huddled against her door, wishing desperately that she could just disappear. They'd been in the car for ten more minutes before she dared to look at him again. Carpenter was staring out the windshield, expression unreadable, his dark eyes stormy.

"Are you mad at me?" Juliet asked softly, needing him to say something. She knew it was probably a foolish question, but she just needed him talking to her again.

Carpenter's grip on the steering wheel tightened, but the turmoil in his eyes looked more like pain than wrath. Juliet counted the seconds until he replied.

"No."

Juliet thought he looked like he didn't believe his own assessment, but she also realized there was more to it than anger alone. She wiped fruitlessly at her eyes, pointing ahead. "It's right here."

* * *

><p>She felt dread claw its way back up in her when he got out of the car, following her to the door. She couldn't fathom what he would say if her father were home, but there was no way it could be anything good. Silently, Juliet prayed he would just leave it at making sure she got inside okay. Instead, he raised his hand and rang the doorbell.<p>

"This is my house," Juliet assured him quietly, thinking that maybe he didn't believe her.

"I noticed," he replied tonelessly, eyes indicating the MARTIN name he saw on the brass mail slot. And if he was intimidated or overwhelmed by the palatial abode, he gave no sign. He didn't even bat an eye when it was Siobhan who opened the door.

Juliet's stepmother blinked at the sight on her doorstep. "Juliet?"

Juliet's mouth went dry, and she found she had no words. Carpenter spoke for her. "Mrs. Martin?"

Juliet swore she'd swallowed a bowling ball. She tried to keep her expression void, but nearly cringed at what might come next.

Siobhan nodded, looking between the two. "Yes?"

"I'm Daniel Carpenter, Juliet's teacher. She wasn't feeling well and needed a ride home."

Siobhan was surprised, but visibly grateful for the consideration. "Oh. That was very kind of you."

"If it's too much trouble to retrieve her car from the school lot before tomorrow, I can pick her up in the morning."

Siobhan acknowledged this with a shake of her head and a genuine smile. "It won't be a problem. Andrew or I can drive her. Thank you so much for bringing her home."

Carpenter smiled, if a little tightly. "It was no trouble." He cast a final fleeting look at Juliet before turning back to Siobhan. "Nice meeting you, Mrs. Martin."

"You too," returned Siobhan as he descended the small rise of steps to leave. She smiled then at Juliet haltingly. "You coming in?"

Juliet nodded, brushing past her stepmother and into the house. "Is my dad here?"

"No, he's at work." Siobhan frowned a little anxiously. "I hope you feel better."

Juliet doubted very much that she would.

* * *

><p>"How is everything progressing for the Thanksgiving party?" Andrew asked later that night, fumbling with his tie as he rose from the couch.<p>

"Very well. Abbot about had a coronary though when I told him we were changing the menu," Bridget replied with a crooked smile. She rolled her eyes at his efforts to remove the piece of silk and approached him with an indulgent smile. "Here."

Andrew chuckled as her nimble fingers quickly worked the tie free. "Too many late nights, I suppose. Thank you. As to Abbot—he does like to make a fuss. But as long as there is turkey, I don't understand his problem."

"No one understands his problem, Andrew."

He acknowledged her point with a plaintive nod. "I daresay you're right, darling." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I'm turning in. I'd like to get a head start on the day tomorrow."

"Right behind you." Bridget smiled, watching him go, before she went to go do the same. She stopped though at the sight that greeted her beyond the crack of Juliet's ajar bedroom door. Bridget's mouth fell into a worried, thin line. Juliet was curled into a ball on top of her covers, the room's only illumination being the bedside lamp which cast a melancholy sort of glow over her. Normally, Bridget would think nothing of it, except the girl's shoulders were trembling with evidence that she was crying.

Bridget hesitated, wary to breech the girl's privacy but unwilling to leave her alone either. Steeling herself for any angry reaction she might receive, Bridget pressed lightly against the door, opening it a little further. "Juliet?" she asked softly.

Juliet seemed to visibly flinch, and curled in on herself a little tighter.

"Are you okay?"

Since her back was still to her stepmother, Juliet's voice was muffled. "I'm fine."

Bridget couldn't leave it at that. "Can I come in?"

She sniffed, taking almost a minute to respond. "Yeah."

Bridget stepped in, walking over to the bed and easing down onto the mattress. She put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Juliet, what's wrong?" Bridget felt her forehead. "Are you still not feeling well?"

Juliet laughed softly, but it was a sad sound and held no humor. Surprising her stepmother, she rolled over so that they were face to face. Bridget felt sympathy without pretense fill her at the tears and devastation in Juliet's eyes.

"Juliet?"

"Have you ever disappointed someone?" the teenager asked quietly, a few tears escaping the barrier of her lashes. "I mean really, _really_ let them down?"

Bridget exhaled slowly, taking the time and thought to respond. "Yes, I have."

Juliet's lower lip quivered, and she pressed it tightly between her teeth to prevent the watery cry from escaping. "How do you fix it? How can I make it better again?" Her voice rose a little in time with her emotion. "Siobhan, what do I do?"

Bridget reached for Juliet's hand and took it in hers, squeezing gently. "You tell them you're sorry. And maybe they don't forgive you right away. But more importantly, you look at yourself and decide to make a change. Survive the night." Bridget smiled sadly down at her step-niece, trying to convey encouragement where it was clear Juliet was deeply suffering. "And try again tomorrow."

Juliet took this in, mulling it all over silently to herself. After awhile, she nodded.

Bridget sat there beside her a little longer until Juliet had collected herself and was tired enough to sleep. Bidding her goodnight, Bridget made sure the girl was nestled under the covers before she turned out the light and left the room for her own bed.

Bridget knew what someone looked like when they were under the influence of drugs; knew what they looked like when trying to hide it. More, she knew what it was to be that person completely. With that in mind, she knew the teacher had lied for Juliet. But Bridget understood why. And if she had to admit to herself, she was a little grateful, because right now Juliet needed so much more than another warden.

* * *

><p>His dismal mood crept into his lecture the next day. Juliet wondered how it was that no one else could notice. He had dismissed them all with a tired reminder of their assignments for the weekend.<p>

She waited until class was finished, and everyone else had gone, before she hesitantly approached his desk. He was propped against the oak, arms crossed, and avoiding her eyes.

"Hey," Juliet said in a tiny voice. The corners of her mouth curled up tentatively.

As it turned out, he couldn't ignore her for long. His gaze dragged to hers, combing over her as though he expected her to break and looking quietly concerned for it. He nodded a little in guarded acknowledgment. "You okay?"

Juliet instantly felt relief, despite the tension still between them. "Yeah," she replied, dropping her eyes briefly to consider what she was going to say. When she looked at him again, she tried to somehow convey the depth of her gratitude. "Thank you."

He looked away, warring emotions of worry and self-reproach flashing in his eyes. "Don't say that," he muttered. "I shouldn't have done what I did. I've probably made the situation worse."

Juliet was surprised at his reaction. She quickly shook her head. "You didn't," she insisted, very sincere. At his sigh, she took a step closer. "Really. I've had people react the other way… it's never seemed to work in my favor."

Carpenter stared at her for a long time, trying to gauge the truth in her words, and whether he did the right thing by her after all. He was clearly torn, but finally settled on a quiet acceptance. "Okay."

Juliet cleared her throat, needing to instill a lighter note into the weighted silence. "So… was it my wiles or my doe eyes that got to you yesterday?" She felt her stomach flop when his lips twitched, and she thought she could cry when most of the fight seemed to leave him.

"Doe eyes, obviously," he volleyed back.

She nodded matter-of-factly. "I figured." Juliet glanced at the clock before turning back to him with wide, innocent eyes. "Well… see you next week, Danny."

Her smile stretched impossibly wider at the feigned menace in his expression. "Don't call me that."

Juliet laughed and turned to leave. She was halfway across the room when his voice called out to her gently.

"Juliet?"

"Yeah?"

He had that look again. "Please don't let yesterday ever happen again."

Juliet felt that familiar tightness again in her throat. Her eyes stung a little. "I'll try," she promised, voice thick.

Carpenter nodded, grateful for the honesty of her answer even if it wasn't the one he'd hoped most for. Because really, that's all he could ask.

As long as Juliet was trying, so would he.


	6. Juliet and the Bard AU

**Author's Note (PLEASE READ):** Okay... so I wasn't going to post this one. Why? Well... because I wrote it way back when we first heard about Carpenter showing up. Yeah... before the show even started haha. We knew virtually nothing about either Juliet or Carpenter. However... since people really seem to like these (thanks guys!) and are asking for more (and since I don't have anything ready on hand except a current unfinished entry), I decided I'd give in and post it. Beware, it's sort of AU. I didn't know how old Juliet would be, her personality, her situation (financial or emotional), etc. BUT! I did guess Carpenter to be a Lit instructor! Go me!

THIS is the oneshot that started it all... (*whispers of awe are heard*)

So... without further ado...

* * *

><p>Juliet tried her locker combination for the third time, trying in vain to discern the chicken scratch Ms. Edgar had written down on the small slip of paper. She'd spoken to the stern-faced principal once in an effort to explain that the woman's numerical abilities more closely resembled letters and shapes, to no avail. Juliet was dismissed before she could get a word in edgewise, with no surprise. She knew that a student with a record like hers, in a school like this, would lead her nowhere spectacular. Being a recovering addict—using the word <em>recovering <em>loosely of course—did not a lot of sympathies make.

Several students bumped into her in the rush of class intermission. It was four minutes 'til the bell rang again, signifying that if you were not in your proper class prepared and with a sunny smile, detention would be sentenced down upon you that same evening. There weren't a lot of chances afforded in this school. Juliet wondered how long she'd last, and then inevitably wondered if she cared.

The giggling waifs to the right of her squealed at something else super extraordinary. Juliet thought they might have been discussing Homecoming or tryouts or something else she held zero interest in. Juliet sighed, and leveled her most intimidating glare unto the uncooperative locker she'd been assigned.

"Hey," chirped one of the musical voices out of her peripheral. "What are you doing here?"

Juliet turned to them. "What?"

One of the doe-eyed cheerleaders shrugged. "This is the athlete wing." As though that explained Juliet's unseemly presence.

Juliet raised an eyebrow, holding up the slip of paper. "This is where the principal sent me." She deemed the note in her hand with a cursory glance, as though to make certain it was and that she hadn't read it wrong. The building and the row were at least legible, and she'd been correct.

A tiny pointed nose closed in on the paper in her hand. Eyelashes batted as the girl's honey gaze swept over it. At the confirmation, she seemed to light up. "Oh! Are you new?" Her harem thrilled beside her.

"Yeah. Somewhat." Juliet, while new to the school, was not new to New York.

An avid nod from her newest enthusiast. "Are you cheer squad or track?" the girl asked, and then looked her up and down. At the sight of Juliet's contemporary and somewhat plain attire, she shrugged. "Or volleyball. Are you excited for tryouts?"

Juliet wasn't sure which question to answer first. She briefly considered ignoring all of them, but decided to make an effort not to be rude. "Neither. And… no. I'm not in sports and I don't cheer."

Their faces fell in tandem. "Oh." Three perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. The two other girls suddenly couldn't have looked more disinterested, and the girl speaking scowled a little in confusion. "Weird. What _do _you do?"

Juliet barely withheld her sigh and decided to try her lock again. "I come here and go to class. At least, that's the plan."

"Well, this wing is for athletes," came the sentiment again. "I don't know why Ms. Edgar sent you here. Maybe it was a mistake. It was probably a mistake."

Juliet nodded, not looking at them. "Probably," she muttered.

A round of sighs from the little cheer squad. The one on the left, the shortest one, rolled her eyes. "We're going to be late. Let's go."

The leader gave Juliet a false smile, combing her eyes depreciatively over her attire once more. "_Bye_."

They spun on their heels, tiny skirts bouncing, and trotted off. Juliet watched them, feeling a definite lack of disappointment to see them go.

"I see you've met the Stepfords," said a masculine voice behind her. Juliet turned around to see a guy leaning cross-armed in a doorway at the end of the locker row. He smirked. "Particularly vapid bunch. They mean well, but I'd avoid them—unless you don't mind being another fatality of the glitter and pom pom epidemic."

Juliet eyed him critically. He looked amused at her misfortune, but not exultant over it. He was young enough in appearance, she thought, but while his clothing teetered more on the casual side, there was a put-togetherness that belied the average teenager vibe. "Are you a…?" She had no idea how to finish that sentence.

He cast her a glance, tearing his gaze briefly away from the milling student body. His lips upturned briefly in a smile. "Mr. Carpenter."

Juliet's expression was dubious. "You're a teacher?"

He was back to observing. "Don't let the perpetual coolness fool you."

Juliet withheld her reflexive snort. "If you're a teacher, why are you lurking in the hallways between bells?"

"It was my turn to lurk this week. I have hall duty with the delinquents because Mrs. O'Malley beat me at poker again."

Juliet wasn't sure whether he was kidding or not. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a perfunctory glance as she went back to the battle with her lock. "Mr. Carpenter… wood shop?" she guessed dryly.

"Wow, very clever," he muttered affably, with all the practiced boredom of one who had suffered such poor jokes for years. "Actually, British Literature is my poison." He'd affected a fleeting cockney accent, so that _literature_ came out as _li-treh-ture_. This time, Juliet did snort. She saw him look over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye. "Six, twenty-five, eighteen," he read of the note in her hands. When she glanced up at him in surprise, he was amused again. "Most of us have finally decoded Edgar's inimitable hieroglyphics. You'll get the hang of it." He glanced at the clock above their heads. "And my penance is now over." He pushed off from the wall, passing by her and treading backwards through the maze of students as he called back. "You're a freshman, correct? See you fourth period. Bring your ear buds if you have them. We're starting the Bard this week. I recommend Weezer or Chumba Wumba for drowning it out."

Juliet watched him go, her features scrunched up barely in a look of passing bewilderment. Some of the students gave him passing greetings, one high five, and a quick pass of a basketball across the width of the hallway. He caught it and delivered it back to the jock through a behind-the-back maneuver before he was lost in the crowd.

Juliet tried the combination he'd given her. It worked. She sighed in a mixture of relief and weariness and jammed her belongings into the small compartment before slamming it shut.

* * *

><p>When fourth period arrived, Juliet found her Lit class with little tribulation. Students poured in, and she found a seat closest to the back of the room as she could manage. Carpenter was already at the front, verbally herding the boisterous students into their seats. "Alright, alright, cut the chatter," he directed lightly. "You all came across campus together, all very exciting, I know. But I'm afraid your educational learning must now resume." Carpenter bent down to open a drawer that was obscured by the front of his desk and withdrew a single Solitaire Kicks sneaker. "Helmsly," he called, "I believe you left this behind when you TP'd my house last night." He lobbed the sneaker deftly across the room at a South Pole brand-wearing teen. The student caught it with relish. Carpenter grinned. "I hear those are expensive, try not to lose it next time."<p>

"Thanks, Mr. C," drifted the student's grateful reply.

"My gnomes are now booby-trapped, Marcus," Carpenter warned him. "Haze at your own risk." To the class, he said, "So. For those of you with no ulterior means of distraction, may the Bard have mercy on your soul." He indicated a large cardboard box beside the door. "And for those of you who failed to obtain your new book as you entered the room, go ahead and get one now." Over half the class rose noisily from their seats and moved to the back of the classroom to do so. Carpenter snorted and shook his head, speaking again once everyone was finally settled in. "Who wants to read this time?" he asked. "Volunteers? Because I'm not doing accents again." A couple students raised their hands. "Annabelle. Start us off."

As class got under way, Juliet sighed, pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt, dropped her head to her desk, and attempted to sleep. All the while doing her best to ignore the itch under her skin that begged for another hit.

"_You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground_…"


	7. Trick or Treat

**Author's Note:** So... I've got about three other oneshots in the queue, and I was going to wait until the end of the week to post, in case I got writer's block. BUT... since there was no Ringer tonight, more's the pity, I had to at least post one. :)

Happy Halloween, guys!

* * *

><p>Everyone was certainly in the spooky spirit.<p>

Carpenter wasn't sure if it was the tricks or the treats or the Holiday itself that had all the characters before him so antsy in their seats. Taking pity on them, he wrapped up his lecture a little early, allowing them several minutes to gab. He glanced over his shoulder to his desk and turned back to the class with a smirk. "And I see you've already cleaned out my stash," he said, lifting the bowl inquiringly. "Any requests for tomorrow?" While it was technically Halloween today, he had promised them sugar highs for the whole week.

The class erupted in a series of suggestions ranging from Milky Way bars to cans of Budweiser, adding to the buoyant din when the bell rang.

Carpenter grinned and dropped the bowl back onto his desk. "I think I'll stick with the traditional route of candy, for now." Groans met his assertion as the students began gathering their things. "I'm afraid cavities are more sociably acceptable than dead brain cells," he said, as the students filed up to his desk to hand over their assignments. One by one, subtle versions of ghouls, witches, superheroes, and unknowables passed by. Carpenter began looking through the papers, organizing them for grading later.

Thor approached the desk warily. "Mr. C… what would you say if I told you that, due to a series of events leading up to my saving of the universe…"

"That's not an excuse, Josh," Carpenter said, without looking up.

Thor heaved a mighty sigh, shoulders of armor sagging in defeat. His horned helmet drooped over his blue eyes and shaggy hair and he trudged off.

Carpenter hid a smile, stacking the papers and slipping them into his briefcase.

"Nothing like crushing the spirits of a god to start off the day," Juliet observed tonelessly, though the spark in her eyes belied the true enjoyment she gained out of the display.

Carpenter looked up, eyes straying to the top of her head. His gaze lit up in amusement. "I like your ears."

Juliet narrowed her catty eyes. "And you are?"

Carpenter's eyebrows rose innocently and he pointed to the nametag on his vest, which read: HELLO MY NAME IS CHUCK NORRIS.

Juliet raised an amused eyebrow. "I see. You gonna roundhouse us if our homework is late?"

He shook his head, holding out his hand. "Not if you turn it in right meow," he replied calmly.

Juliet pressed her lips tightly together, her black nose twitching with the effort to repress any sign of mirth. She handed him the paper. "Here." He took it, and she swore his gaze was silently daring her to return a volley of her own. She waited until he was finished fastening his briefcase and gave him a critical onceover. "Next time try a cowboy hat."

She turned on her heel and left, Carpenter's laughter trailing after her.

He slung his briefcase over his shoulder, brow quirking bemusedly at the swish of a fuzzy tail slipping out of his classroom. Carpenter shook his head, kicking aside remnant bits of Charmin from someone's mummy garb as he locked up. Pseudo cobwebs, orange and black streamers, hanging spiders, window paint, a small fortune in candy.

Maybe Budweiser wasn't a bad idea…


	8. Spirit Week

**Author's Note:** Own not. Sue not.

Just a little thing that popped into my head. Also, feel free to drop me requests or suggestions, guys! I will be posting one more tonight after this one. And whereas this is another lighthearted piece, the following will be much heavier.

(Yeah, yeah... I was gonna wait until the end of the week, but whatever.)

* * *

><p>"You got detention… five minutes before the last bell?" Carpenter's eyes rose over the paper to meet hers, eyebrows climbing for his scalp. "<em>Really<em>?" He was just on his way out the door, glad to have avoided after-school duty so he could get on with his own plans. Coach Swanson tended to mumble when he didn't have help corralling the rowdy athletes, but on top of that, Swanson was feeling under the weather and couldn't make practice at all. Carpenter almost shuddered to think what the adolescent boys could get into with a whole gym to themselves and no authority figure to speak of.

Juliet shrugged. "O'Malley had it coming."

Carpenter sighed, casting the slip a final glance. "A possibility." He considered asking what Juliet had done in the first place to merit such last minute sentencing, but thought better of it. "Well. I have things to do, so you get to come with me." He smiled brightly in the face of her apparent dread for any further inconvenience and nodded at the door, grabbing his things. "Let's walk."

Juliet followed after him obediently. "Where are we going?"

"A surprise." Carpenter couldn't keep a secret for long it appeared, because he was telling her a second later. "The gymnasium. I'm the assistant coach for the boys' basketball team. And they are notorious for having no patience, so chop-chop." With that, he 'mush-ed' her out of the room and quickly locked up.

Juliet smirked up at him. "Well aren't you a jack of all trades."

Carpenter chuckled. "Come on, where's your school spirit?" he asked as they navigated the halls.

"In the toilet," Juliet replied with great satisfaction. "Literally. I flushed that stupid lanyard down the toilet."

Carpenter paused, a look of almost comic concern crossing his features. "I think the janitor may kill you."

"After today, it would be a reprieve."

Carpenter made a face, a sight that suddenly amused her to no end. "There's the spirit," he said, voice rife with false enthusiasm. "So… does this mean I won't see you at the pep rally tomorrow?"

"I will be hiding in the bathroom," Juliet affirmed, "vandalizing the toilet with more lanyards."

Carpenter swooped around her, getting the door and ushering her into the gym. "I was not party to this conversation," he said officially, saving her from a few stray basketballs that flew their way. "Just, please… refrain from including foam fingers in your diabolical plans to sabotage spirit week."

"If I promise that, will you let me go home?"

"Nope. But I may let you leave early."

Juliet grinned. "Deal."

He laughed, grabbing a whistle from the hook as she trotted off for the bleachers. Its shrill cry cut through the chatter of the scrimmaging boys. "Laps, gentlemen! I'm not your cheerleader, let's go!" Groans and laughter met his orders, and the boys quickly rushed into formation and began running. A wicked smile cut across his features. "We go home as soon as you impress Miss Martin there."

The players were suitably horrified, but grudgingly accepted their fate after a few challenging looks from the assistant coach.

Juliet looked up from her homework in surprise. A truly evil smile twisted her mouth then as she met his eyes from across the gym.

This was way better than the lanyards.

Carpenter merely smirked. _That'll teach them to decorate the locker rooms in toilet paper._


	9. Lights Will Guide You

**Author's Note:** This one I actually started writing before episode six aired. I finished it only recently. It's my first "lyrical" oneshot in this series. I may do a few more, because I have several specific songs in mind. This one is "Fix You" by Coldplay, if you don't recognize it.

* * *

><p><em>when you try your best<br>when you get what you want_

* * *

><p>It was strange, she thought. How things changed.<p>

She'd met some potential friends. Even had a date to the Homecoming dance. What was perhaps even strangest of all was the fact that she was marginally looking forward to it. Juliet enjoyed dancing—but the club scene was more her style than the more traditional and conservative custom shared by all high schools.

Somewhere along her short stay at Zachary High, a boy had asked her to be his date. Tyler was nice enough, good-looking (_really_ good-looking), and he wanted to be seen in public with the rich girl outcast.

Juliet's dress was royal blue, had spaghetti straps, and cascaded in a sloping curtain of satin to just below her knees. Tyler had made sure his tie matched the color, and he'd come to pick her up on time and had even bought her a corsage. It wasn't even prom and he was trying to impress her. Normally, Juliet would think it a little corny and maybe just for show, but tonight… she was willing to change her perspective.

When they arrived at the dance, she could feel the bass of the music all the way down to her toes encased in their silver heels. She instantly relaxed and Tyler lead her into the gymnasium with another couple, talking about getting them drinks and finding his friends.

Some Gaga or Natalia Kills song was pounding through the speakers. Juliet glanced towards the punch table as they all bustled in, seeing three chaperons and a couple teachers congregated around the frilly and streamer-mutilated area. Juliet was a little surprised to catch sight of Carpenter amongst them; he must have lost to Mrs. O'Malley at poker again. She happened to catch the Lit teacher's eye, who, for the most part, was looking bored out of his mind, but behaving graciously about it. He gave her "the nod" in a parody of being _cool_ and a low thumbs up before turning his apathetic gaze back on the many loud couples gyrating on the dance floor. With a shake of her head, Juliet rolled her eyes at the droll display. Laughing, she allowed Tyler to drag her into the crowd.

* * *

><p>Juliet sipped her punch, patiently sidelined as Tyler chatted animatedly with some other guys in tuxes. Their indiscernible conversation was punctuated by the occasional boisterous laugh. Tyler turned to her, shouting something to include her that she couldn't quite make out through the noise. Nonetheless, she smiled and forced a laugh of her own.<p>

"Tyler's great, isn't he?" Abigail spoke beside her.

Juliet glanced at the other girl—a date to one of Tyler's friends. She nodded. "Yeah. He's cute. Does he not like to dance?"

Abigail shrugged, but her perky smile did not diminish. "I don't know. Kyle got a new truck or something though, so they're probably gushing over it. Well—not _new_. New to Kyle. It's all he can talk about. He's been saving up since he was, like, twelve for that thing. It rides nice, though. But it is a total guy machine. He's been trying to find rims for the tires. Do people do that? Put rims on trucks? Seems like a weird thing to do, don't you think?"

Juliet gave a noncommittal nod. "I guess."

Tyler came over to them, grinning broadly. "Hey, Martin," he began. "I'll be right back, okay? Gotta tend to business, then maybe I'll treat you to a dance when I get back. Cool?"

Juliet raised her eyebrows with an amused smile. "Sure. Go take care of your _business_, then I'm dragging you out there," she promised.

The boy's smile stretched only wider, and he dashed off.

Abigail turned to Juliet. "Well I'm gonna go snag Kyle now that he's free."

Juliet nodded. "You do that," she muttered once the girl was gone, left standing now alone beneath one of the backboards.

* * *

><p>She wasn't sure how long she had been waiting, but when she looked at the clock, it was after eleven, and the dance was to end at midnight. Juliet sighed, deciding to wait another ten minutes before doing anything.<p>

Twenty minutes came and went, casting annoyance on her very deliberate patience. Juliet pushed off from the wall and left the gym, emerging into one of the hallways in search of her date. If he was trapped in another verbal round with Kyle and that stupid truck…

She came around a corner and stopped cold.

* * *

><p><em>when you try your best, but you don't succeed<br>when you get what you want, but not what you need  
>when you feel so tired, but you can't sleep<br>stuck in reverse_

* * *

><p>Tyler and some blond girl were tucked into the small alcove near a water fountain, making out. Juliet laughed outright, startling them both.<p>

"Juliet," Tyler stammered out, breaking away from the glossy lips demanding his attention. "What—"

Juliet held up a withering hand. "Don't bother, really. I'm already over it."

"Who's she?" the blond asked.

Since Tyler appeared to be at a loss for words, Juliet derisively filled in the lost owner of the strapless yellow dress. "I was his date. But don't worry," she said of the girl's stricken look, smiling with bitter amusement, "he didn't dance with me either."

"Juliet—"

She was already walking away. "Have a great night, asshole."

* * *

><p><em>and the tears come streaming down your face<br>when you lose something you can't replace  
>when you love someone, but it goes to waste<br>could it be worse?_

* * *

><p>The tears in her eyes surprised her.<p>

What was wrong with her? She didn't actually care about that guy. He was just another faceless jerk in the sea of bastards that attended this school. And yet, somehow, she felt the unbelievable wetness of tears clinging to her lashes as she shoved her way into the bathroom.

The cold, sickly lime tiles greeted her dispassionately. The mirror showed her a girl she didn't know if she recognized right now. What was the point of this? Trying to fit in at a place that didn't want her. Trying to make friends with people who'd sooner step over her corpse for a piece of gum. Stuck at a dance with a date who'd abandoned her, with so-called friends who didn't give her a second glance now. Abigail had ignored her when she'd passed by with Kyle in the hall. Apparently since Tyler was done with her, so were they. If they had ever been with her to start with.

_Things never really change at all._

Juliet stared into her reflection, searching the foreign face for answers, for lies, for anything to indicate what the hell she was still doing at this school.

Her jaw trembled, the weight of the night suddenly seeming to crush her.

A single sob escaped her. She refused to allow a second. With determined steel, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. She did _not_ need their acceptance. Tears still pricking at her eyes, she left the bathroom, vowing to never give any of them another inch ever again.

* * *

><p>Juliet tromped back into the gymnasium, barefoot and livid. There was less than an hour left of the dance, but most of the couples had all already left for their hotels or wherever to start their after parties. Along the brick half-wall in front of the bleachers were a row of folding chairs and she all but flung herself into one of them, staring out blackly at the shimmering lights and amorous ambiance of the magnificently glorious Homecoming display.<p>

_Well, isn't this perfect. _

She was stuck here until she decided what to do. The hanging streamers shrouding the spacious room in a swooping canopy felt suddenly like a prison. Juliet had held her high heels in one hand but now dropped them unceremoniously to the floor and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She hadn't even wanted to come to this stupid dance. She'd been four-square against it until that stupid boy and his stupid smile had tried to make her feel special. She remembered now why she hated such functions and their pathetic traditions. Despite her strenuous efforts, and to her escalating horror and humiliation, she had to wipe angrily at her eyes. Dispersing students who passed by gave her looks ranging from pitying to smug to plain scathing.

_No more tears. No more caring. No more. You gave them an inch—now demand it back._

Juliet sat and ignored them, alone.

* * *

><p><em>could it be worse?<br>lights will guide you home  
>and ignite your bones<br>and I will try to fix you_

* * *

><p>"May I have this dance?" she heard a familiar voice ask beside her.<p>

Juliet looked up into the amused face of her Lit teacher. She huffed a short laugh and slumped back against the wall. "Isn't that frowned upon or something?"

He chuckled. "I was kidding," he said, and surveyed the area. "Well, will it completely ruin your reputation if I sit next to you?"

Juliet shook her head, back to scowling at the dispersing couples. Her reputation was hardly anything she need worry getting tarnished. "Be my guest."

He settled in next to her with a sigh, apparently glad the monstrosity around them was over too. There was a moment of silence between them before he smirked and asked, "So… how's _your_ Homecoming going?"

"It blows."

Carpenter grunted, the corners of his mouth upturning briefly. "How charming." He glanced at her, a little thrown by the sight of the dressed-up and done-up teen glowering daggers into the near-empty gym. "What happened?"

Juliet was for once glad of the low lighting, as it disguised any fracture in her carefully constructed mask. She laughed bitterly, shaking her head and announcing brightly, "My date left me for a prettier model."

"That bastard."

"Yeah," Juliet said, not quite feeling the passion of her anger anymore. She sighed and stared out over the deserted dance floor. Why was it, in his presence, that small part of her continued to harbor that innate urge to care? Juliet was determined not to give a damn, but the sense of abandonment hit her again full force and there was a sense of emptiness in her that only seemed to expand.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you look astonishingly pretty, and that two-timing loser is completely missing out."

It's affect was immediate. She simply stared at him for what seemed like years. His words were said lightly, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes. A rush of emotion swelled unexpectedly in her chest and she bit her lip. "Thanks."

Carpenter nudged her shoulder reassuringly. "Even the downtrodden fatalists deserve their moments of cynicism. Equally, their moments to shine." At her halfhearted laugh, he smiled and asked, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Juliet thought it over, the moving lights and colors of the gymnasium making the hue of her eyes idly dance. The gymnasium was large and she was feeling suddenly very small. "No."

What was wrong with him? She couldn't help the unbidden thought. How had the poison of this school not seeped into his veins already? Whatever the reason, it was clear he wasn't going anywhere.

They sat in companionable silence for long enough that she lost track of whatever time had passed. She could feel his eyes on her, could picture the smattering of concern in them. Every time he looked at her, there was concern lurking somewhere beneath the surface. He was always pushing her—to succeed, to do better, to excel.

Sometimes though, one had to pull instead of push.

* * *

><p><em>and high up above or down below<br>when you're too in love to let it go  
>but if you never try you'll never know<br>just what you're worth_

* * *

><p>Finally then, he really surprised her.<p>

"Come on." Carpenter rose and held out his hand, his voice yanking her out of her miserable daze. At Juliet's blank look, he only grinned. "You will have had at least one dance tonight, even if it means lowering your standards to dance with me. Come on."

Juliet laughed bemusedly and he wiggled his fingers impatiently. It was quickly becoming a standoff of sorts before, shaking her head in a gesture of utter surprise and wonder, Juliet conceded and took his hand. Some Coldplay song was still playing as he led her to the middle of the floor.

Juliet tried to avoid the slew of sparkles and shining garland bits with her toes, grinning as Carpenter guided her around them. He glanced up and around as they danced, muttering, "I'm having horrible flashbacks to the 90's." He shuddered for effect and she laughed outright at the imagery his remark conjured up.

"You're actually a pretty good dancer," she pointed out.

Carpenter laughed. "Gosh, thanks. I'd be flattered if you weren't regarding it as being a miracle."

"It was pleasant surprise, not downright shock. Watch the hands, though," Juliet teased him and his eyes sparkled.

"Don't get any ideas. This is merely an attempt to waylay your downtrodden, fatalistic, teenage angst for as long as possible before the time inevitably comes when life hands you yet another lemon to squirt you in the eye. I prefer women my own age, thank you very much."

But Juliet was staring at him so intently, he'd trailed off as he started to say something else. Her eyes were shining and she looked like she might cry again. Then, to his surprise, she tugged him forward into a crushing hug.

His heart broke a little for her and he silently cursed the ones who had hurt her. She murmured her thanks again into the collar of his shirt and he smiled. "Don't sweat it, Martin," he said, gently patting her back.

Juliet took comfort in the protective circle of his arms, emotions welling back to the surface. As her head went to his shoulder, she remembered, inevitably, why she still hadn't demanded to be rid of this school. Even at her worst, Carpenter was always there it seemed, picking up the pieces. Juliet wasn't sure how to react to that. In any case, it felt… nice. A sense of relief and security enveloped her, more foreign than her reflection had been in the mirror. For once, she trusted the feeling of contentment and let it ease the unhappiness roiling in her insides. She didn't have to worry about anything else, just the feel of him holding her up again. Tears stung her eyes, and she didn't bother to cover it up.

The song was finally coming to a close.

"You need a ride home?" he asked when the final notes faded.

Juliet nodded, ducking her head. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"How do you feel about the 2010 Prius?" he asked, earning another laugh.

"You're such a dork," she muttered, hurrying over to get her shoes.

* * *

><p><em>lights will guide you home<br>and ignite your bones  
>and I will try to fix you<em>

* * *

><p>Juliet climbed out of the car when it pulled in front of her house, a new brightness in her eyes and a bounce to her step that hadn't been there before.<p>

"Night, Julie," Carpenter called after her.

"Night," she doled pleasantly back, before hesitating. She turned back around, leaning to look through the window as he reached to put the tiny little blue car back into gear. "C?" He looked up. Juliet felt the warm, grateful smile blossoming over her face and across her skin. "Thank you. Really."

He smiled back, his fondness for her shining evident in his eyes. "You're welcome." He winked conspiratorially then. "Best date I ever had."

Her cheeks split with the force of her puckish grin, eyes crinkling at their corners. "Dumbass."

Carpenter chuckled. "Have a good night."

Juliet waved him off, certain she already had. She felt a ridiculous sense of happiness rush through her, and she couldn't stop herself, for some equally ridiculous reason, from laughing again.

* * *

><p><em>tears stream down your face<br>I promise you I will learn from my mistakes  
>tears stream down on your face<br>and I..._

* * *

><p>"How was Homecoming?" her father asked when she passed him in the hall.<p>

Juliet smiled, and Andrew was delighted to see the way it lit up her face. "You know," she said thoughtfully, disappearing into her room, "it wasn't bad."

There were things in her life that she'd been holding onto. Things that she was slowly realizing she didn't need to feel good about herself, after all.

She really only had one person to thank.

* * *

><p><em>lights will guide you home<br>and ignite your bones  
>and I will try to fix you<em>


	10. Always Come When You Call

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the slow update, guys. I've been scary busy.

This is a somewhat spoilery oneshot. It's an add on to last night's episode 7. (I see two other ones floating around to do with _The Epic Calling of Mr. Carpenter in Her Time of Need_. Both lovely and I adore them. You all know the one. If you don't, well... reading this oneshot won't shock or spoil you too badly.)

Also, the ending is meant to be somewhat ambiguous.

* * *

><p>"Hey. Thanks for showing up last night."<p>

Carpenter looked up, not all that surprised to see Juliet standing in front of his desk when lunch hour came. "Sure," he replied, rising from his seat and moving around to stand beside her. He made a valiant effort to disguise his relief to an acceptable level. That had been a drive he didn't care to repeat anytime soon; heart in his throat, about a million questions circulating in his mind. "You and your friend are both okay?"

They both knew which person he was really asking about.

Juliet nodded, unnaturally tacit. "Yeah, we're good. Monica is grounded probably forever, and I'm not far behind I guess." She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Sorry about my dad yelling at you."

Carpenter shook his head, understanding the man's abrasiveness with him the previous night. "It was no problem. He was worried about you. Are you two doing okay?" he asked then, a note of concern in his voice. Juliet had explained the situation to him when he'd first arrived at the accident scene, and she'd been terrified of what her father's reaction would be. She had begged Carpenter not to call the elder Martin, and it had killed him a little to do it.

Juliet averted her eyes, hesitating. "He took away my trust fund," she admitted.

Carpenter winced. "Yikes," he murmured.

Juliet was grateful for the sympathy in his voice and pounced on it. "Tell me about it," she muttered.

Carpenter mulled it over. "Well," he began, "on the bright side, you still never need to worry about clothes, food, shelter, or all the basic amenities, unlike the rest of us." His eyes were gently teasing. He had to remind her that she was alive and unharmed—it was in this way that she was very much like her father. Seizing on the material, the trivial, when a veritable miracle had occurred where her life was concerned. That was fine; he had enough perspective to go around.

She scowled at him though. "So you're on his side?"

He held up his hands. "I didn't say that." At Juliet's continued silence, he moved to explain. "Listen… I don't know what the situation was like before yesterday. But I know you were looking for a fresh start—that tells me there were mistakes on both ends. It also tells me you're really trying. Last night was just a sad case of horrible timing, but you were helping a friend out. Your intentions were honorable, and he just needs time I think to realize you're making a real effort not to let him down. More importantly, you're safe." Juliet's edged features softened at his heartfelt words. "Next time, though… I think you should call him first. He needs to know you trust him too. It means a lot that you called me, but in the future, I have to do my best not to get in the middle of you two. And out of respect for your dad… it's not really my business."

Juliet's face fell. Her eyes rounded pitifully, and she ducked her head.

Carpenter rushed to assure her, hating to see that look of rejection on her face. "Hey," he said softly, waiting until she would meet his eyes. When she did, he promised her, "I'm on your side. Always. When you call, if you need me, I'm there. No matter what." He shook his head. "But that doesn't mean I'm against your dad."

She would always be priority one, but that didn't mean he hadn't seen the sadness in her father's eyes when he'd told Andrew that Juliet had been the one to call him. Carpenter had frustrations with the man and his handling of his daughter, but even he could see that Andrew Martin was trying. The man was simply at the end of his rope, and clearly there were other factors to consider, distractions in his life that did not accommodate his only child.

After awhile, Juliet nodded.

"Is that all right?"

She nodded again, relieved. "Yeah."

His lips curled into a small smile. "Okay."

She sighed; a gesture to expel the stress still weighing heavily on her shoulders. "Sorry. For, you know… putting you on the spot like that."

He shrugged it off. "I've been put on the spot, trust me. This was small potatoes in comparison."

Juliet's face scrunched up in amusement. "Small potatoes?"

His expression was blank, but it was the glint of light in his eyes that told her everything she needed to know. "What, you don't like that analogy?"

"Yeah, if you're seventy-five," teased Juliet.

Carpenter feigned offense, a hand reaching up to clutch at the space over his heart.

Juliet laughed, eyeing him closely. "So… you've been put on the spot before?"

He grinned. "Now you're just prying. That's not very polite."

"I'm a teenage girl. Not really our best quality."

He laughed and straightened up from his desk, nudging her at the door. "Yeah, yeah. Don't be late for O'Malley."

"You really need to stop losing to her at poker."

"I was thinking I really need to stop playing the woman altogether," he replied to her retreating back.

Juliet shot him a final look before disappearing out the door. "Good idea. Because either she's really badass, or you just suck at cards."

Carpenter smirked, getting back to his paperwork once she was gone.

His poker face was impenetrable. It was all a matter of choosing where to use it.


	11. Chicken Soup and Dead Poets

**Author's Note:** So here's a little humor fic, to prepare you against the angst to come. I have two hospital oneshots coming up. One is already written; unfortunately the second part, so there might be a bit of a wait.

(and a cookie to those who get the "Boy Meets World" nod)

* * *

><p>Juliet had just settled into her seat when the unfamiliar voice began lecturing on Edgar Allan Poe. Her brow scrunched up in confusion and she looked up to see an older man who was definitely not Mr. C standing at the head of the class.<p>

He went on to say more about Poe, and then finally remarked that he was filling in for Mr. Carpenter for the day—which Juliet had already deduced. She scowled a little. This substitute was giving the lesson all wrong—his voice was monotone, he didn't inflect his words, and he didn't smile at all when something amusing arose in the course of the lecture.

Juliet sighed, slouching in her seat and waiting for the hour to end. So that she could get to the bottom of Carpenter's absence, of course, among other things.

After the bell rang, she rose from her seat and stepped up to Carpenter's desk—_C's desk, not this guy's_—in which the fellow had already appeared to have made himself right at home. Her nostrils flared minutely at his audacity to look so comfortable where he didn't belong.

"Excuse me," she began, as politely as she could muster, "do you know why Mr. Carpenter wasn't able to make it in?"

Mr. Feeny shook his bearded face, returning her politeness, but any true concern escaped him. "I do not. Though from the sound of him, I gathered he was feeling under the weather."

Juliet's brow knit a little with worry and she nodded quickly. "Thanks," she replied dismissively, hurrying out. A part of her acknowledged that she had failed to pay attention to any morsel of the sub's lecture, and so the assignment was therefore lamentably lost on her.

That would have to be remedied as well.

* * *

><p>By the time lunch hour had arrived, Juliet had a plan. Carpenter would probably give her one of his <em>looks<em>, were he there, but he wasn't, so she didn't think twice.

"Miss Lasky?" Juliet began to the secretary, who remained the office's singular guardian at this hour.

The woman looked up. "Yes, Miss Martin?"

Juliet feigned a mighty cringe. "Some of the students were talking about lighting off fireworks in the lunch quad, and I couldn't find Mr. Johnson to tell him, so…" she trailed off ominously, and Lasky was already having a meltdown.

The woman leapt from her chair and hurried past her. "Oh for goodness sake…" she cried, bolting out of the office a moment later.

Juliet was satisfied, if a little guilty. No doubt the work of her English teacher's influence. Wasting no more time regretting her deceit, she rushed over to the filing cabinets, flipping quickly through until she reached the instructors' section.

* * *

><p>She knocked on the door for the fifth time, some of her impatience leaking through and revealing it in the tempo of her pounding.<p>

She juggled the items in her arms precariously, huffing out a sigh as she waited.

It was two whole minutes later before she heard the latch slide free and the door finally opened.

She arranged her features into a bright smile when Carpenter appeared beyond the threshold, looking confused and definitely in less than stellar health. He wore jeans and an old t-shirt, his hair was mussed, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Juliet?" he uttered, voice hoarse and gravelly.

"Hi," she replied.

His brow drew together and he continued to stare at her blankly. "What… are you doing here?"

She held up her items, affecting all the cheerfulness she could. "I brought you soup. And some other stuff."

He blinked, as though he expected her to disappear if he looked away for too long. "Other stuff?"

"Yeah. Can I come in?"

He opened his mouth to reply, still flummoxed, and she felt a twinge of remorse because he really did look bad. His jaw was rough, like he hadn't shaved in awhile, and she noticed now just how pasty he was. "Uh… what else…" his gaze dropped to the items she held tightly in her arms, reaching out a hand reflexively to help her with them before he let it fall back down.

"Well," she began, "I have the soup and this Edgar Allan Poe stuff, and this weird drink that the lady at the gas station said was supposed to help with headaches, or sinus, or something. And flu meds." She was already brushing past him into the house; he must have stepped aside to allow her entry in his dazed state. "And by the way—your sub? Is a complete tool. I didn't understand anything he said, so I figured I'd drop by, feed you soup and drugs, and then you could help me with this assignment. They say the best cure for sickness is to stay active and alert, right?" He had trailed her into his house as she went on, watching as she unloaded her arms onto the small island counter in his kitchen and began separating the items. "Where are your pots and pans?"

Carpenter pointed lamely. "Uh, under the stove."

Juliet nodded and quickly began cooking up the soup.

Carpenter stood aimlessly in the entrance of the room, wandering over to the counter finally to peruse what all she had brought him. He was just getting to the NyQuil and DayQuil—which he was actually out of—when she turned around. "Do you want anything to drink, or just that juice stuff?"

He eyed the drink she'd brought in question, wary of the soy label. "Just the soup for now, I guess." He met her eyes, curiosity and a little bit of dread filling his gaze. "How'd you know where I live?"

Juliet had the decency to blush. She ducked her head guiltily and bit her lip before raising her eyes to meet his with a glimmer of hopeful remorse. "I looked in the school files."

Carpenter sighed. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, annoyed with the way his afflicted body perked at the smell that was wafting from the stove.

"So," Juliet began, slipping over to the counter and holding up one of her English books. "Edgar Allan Poe?"

He stared into her dark, hopeful eyes, rounded almost pleadingly at him. Her teeth appeared in a tentative smile and he sighed again.

Then, the edges of his mouth quirked helplessly, and he nodded at the table in the corner. "Alright," he muttered. "Let's start with _The_ _Tell-Tale Heart_."

He laughed despite himself at the way her gaze lit up and she suddenly dug a carton of ice cream out of another bag. "Rocky Road—not just for menstruating women, you know."

His mouth watered involuntarily and he nodded. "Good call."


	12. Strength as the Strength of Ten

**Author's Note:** So this will be the first of two. They're not directly related, but more "meme" or "prompt" related. This and its companion would take place far down the road of their friendship/bond. Angst ahead.

This oneshot sort of addresses Juliet's immense fondness and feelings towards Carpenter, so there will be lurking romantic undertones on her part. (Granted, I sort of always give her those undertones, or try to, but in this piece they reach a forefront.)

The title is derived from the quote "_my strength is as the strength of ten_" which comes from the _Sir Galahad_ poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson. It's widely acknowledged that Galahad was the boldest of all the knights.

* * *

><p>Juliet stared at the IV protruding from the crux of her elbow with dismal eyes. She was alone in her hospital room, the silence hitting her from all angles. She laid her head back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling, counting the minutes away. She'd been battling back the tears since she woke up to people telling her in so many words that she was crazy.<p>

But then Carpenter had to show up. At the sight of him, the floodgates broke. Tears filled her eyes and a sob rose in her throat.

"Hey," he began gently, approaching the bed. "How're you doing?"

Juliet shook her head, eyes shining miserably. "No one believes me."

A shadow crossed his features, and he sat down beside the bed, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm. "What do you mean?" He had only just learned that she'd been taken to the hospital, for reasons unknown.

Juliet took a deep, shuddering breath to explain. "I've been trying to tell everyone what happened, but they all think I'm making it up because of my past record. They're treating me like an addict and they have me on—on _suicide_ watch," she stammered, large eyes pleading with him. More tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued. "They brought me here in an ambulance a-and had to pump my stomach because of whatever was inside me. I keep trying to tell them, but no one will listen. My dad has been talking to the hospital staff to get them to drop the watch order, but I don't think he believes me either. The way the doctor was looking at me… I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do, and I'm scared," she whispered. "They won't listen to me."

Carpenter's face was unreadable, but there was a gentle intensity to his eyes that made her stomach churn. "Tell me," he said.

Juliet exhaled the watery breath she'd been holding, staring at him in wide wonder as her spirit filled with renewed hope. "I was at a party," she began, wincing slightly at the already damning proclamation, but Carpenter never flinched. "I didn't even see any drugs around. It was just a normal party. I remember talking, dancing, and then nothing. I woke up in the hospital and people were telling me I'd nearly OD'd." Her voice rose a little in hysteria. "I swear I didn't even drink—all I had was a soda. Please, you have to believe me. I must have switched drinks with someone, or someone put something in mine. C—I _swear_, I didn't do this to myself. _Please_," she whimpered at his silence.

A flash of anger filled his eyes—an emotion she wasn't used to seeing from him—but she quickly realized that it wasn't directed at her. His fingers squeezed gently over the flesh of her arm. She had no reason to lie to him; she never did. "I believe you," he told her seriously.

Juliet nearly cried out in relief. She wiped her eyes, looking at him like he was the source of everything righteous and shielding. "What do I do?" she asked in a small voice.

He would always be the one she brought that question to. When she was lost, he was her compass. Moral or otherwise, it didn't matter—she just needed him to be there to guide her straight.

He was quiet for a long time, sorting through options in his mind. She swore she could see the cogs of his mind turning—sometimes she forgot just how intelligent he actually was. Carpenter often played off his genius, preferring instead to let others shine ahead of himself. Juliet wasn't sure where those unbidden thoughts of hers came from in such a time as this, but his being so smart was a comfort, among his other qualities. He shook his head, speaking softly, "Right now, I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "But I think your father wants to believe you, if he doesn't already—he won't let them keep you here like this, no longer than you need to be. And neither will I."

She wanted to throw her arms around him.

"Juliet?"

"Yeah?" she managed out.

"Try to remember anything you can about last night, okay? Every little bit helps."

Juliet nodded bravely, taking a deep breath and a moment to collect herself. "Okay."

His grave expression softened into a consoling smile. His eyes were sad, but encouraging at the same time. "I have something for you," he said finally.

Juliet offered him a feeble upturn of her lips. "Flowers?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Did you want flowers?"

Juliet sniffed. "Not really."

Carpenter reached into his coat and pulled out a fuzzy little stuffed bumblebee with the most adorable face she'd ever seen. _Bee Well_, its rotund belly read.

Juliet started crying again.

He arranged the plump little insect into her hands with utmost care. "Its name is Susie Bee Anthony." Her sobs transformed into laughs, and his low chuckle briefly joined in. "If you don't like that one, I tried Celine Bee-on, Pablo Bee-casso, and Sting."

She turned watery eyes on her English teacher. "How about Beelzebub?"

He was instantly amused, features splitting into a broad grin. "You would name a stuffed animal after the devil."

"Beezie," she replied back, teary eyes smiling.

Carpenter nodded. "Beezie," he acceded. His dark stare combed over hers, searching her face and instilling any and all ounce of assurance he could into her. They became serious again, and her smile faded. "We'll figure it out, okay?" he murmured, reaching up to wipe away a tear from her face.

Juliet nodded. Her lower lip trembled, but she staved off any more tears. "Okay," she whispered.

Her heart fluttered when he rose up so that he could press a fleeting kiss to her forehead. When he drew back, she caught the dredges of deep concern fleeing his eyes, too profound to be extinguished so quickly. "I will never let anything happen to you," was his solemn promise.

Juliet felt some invisible force press heavily against her chest and she nodded weakly, falling quiet. "Will you stay a little longer?" she asked.

Carpenter smiled, nodding a little. "Sure."

Juliet relaxed into the bed that had slowly been engulfing her. As if flipping a switch, the majority of her worries vanished, and she could finally sleep.

It was hours later when she awoke, to realize that while Carpenter was not in the room with her, he had not left. She listened, enrapt, proud, _awed_, to the sound of his voice carrying from the hall. That voice, so gentle and understanding with her, directed now in angry shouts at incompetent hospital staff. That voice, demanding to know why the police weren't being involved.

She could not see past the white-walled room, but she could feel the way his voice—while filling her with that sense of power—made the people around him quail. Those who didn't believe her would be made to. Those who put her here would be brought to justice. Her grip on the fuzzy bee in her arms unconsciously tightened.

Her Sir Galahad would always rise to her defense, even if it cost him his job.

_Boldest knight of the round table_, she recalled reverently of the stories.

Fleetingly, Juliet wondered what else he was willing to risk his job for.


	13. Scars That Never Felt a Wound

**Author's Note:** Here is chapter 12's companion. So... a little background on the title of this one. The line "_he jests at scars that never felt a wound_" is from _Romeo and Juliet_. Basically, Romeo, after listening to Mercutio make fun of him for being in love, comments that the only reason Mercutio can joke is because he's never been in love. In this case, it's also a double entendre, or play on words, as you will see. Much angst ahead, and some violence.

This oneshot in particular definitely addresses any possible romantic issues between Carpenter and Juliet. It eventually portrays his personal reactions to such developments, whereas the last one was more Juliet's.

* * *

><p>Juliet's knees collapsed and she slid to the floor, her back pressed against her bedroom door as great gulping sobs ripped through her. She clasped both hands over her lips to try to stop the moans of heartache that broke from her. Her body shook as the waves of pain washed over her, swamping her in grief.<p>

He had almost died. There was a chance he still could. Her best friend, the man she depended upon above all else could die. He'd been willing to give up his own life so that she might live. But she wasn't sure how to live without him. After all the loss, the rejection, the loneliness that she had experienced in her life, he had taught her to trust again. He had been the one to show her that it was all right to lean on someone when life got hard. But life didn't get harder than this, and after all his lessons, he wasn't here when she desperately needed him the most.

Her breath rasped raggedly from between her lips and her stomach churned, body shuddering with anguish. Bringing her hands in front of her, she felt the onslaught of fresh tears at the sight of the trace amount of blood still on her hands. Rolling to her knees, she climbed unsteadily to her feet and took two staggering steps towards her bathroom. Feeling lightheaded, she had to stop and prop herself against the wall as she tried to work her trembling knees.

A second later, she felt her father's hand on her shoulder. Comforting, somber. But she stepped back, shrinking out of reach. She didn't think she could handle anyone touching her right now. "Juliet," Andrew insisted softly. "Sweetheart, you need to rest. You're too weak to hardly stand."

Of its own volition, her body listed towards her father's, and he held her up. "I have his blood on my hands. I have to wash my hands," she whispered.

His arms came around her, holding her tight. "Oh, Juliet," he murmured, stroking a hand over her hair.

Her head hung in despair and low whimpers broke from her throat. "I can't do this, Daddy. I can't do this."

How could she go on without him, should the unthinkable happen? Hot pain stole through her heart, sending her into an all new spiraling despair.

"I'm so sorry," Andrew whispered against the dark confines of her hair, until her violent sobs had trailed off to gasping breaths.

But her grief was just below the surface, ready to rip free at any moment.

It was hours later when her father left her so that she could sleep, but it wasn't long before she was back in her bathroom, looking up to see her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were dark hollows, filled with pain. Her skin was deathly pale and even her lips were colorless.

She looked haunted. But even still, she knew he had looked so much worse.

Turning away from her reflection, washing her clean hands one more time, she turned off the bathroom light and padded back into her bedroom. She pulled back her covers and slid back into bed, pulling the duvet up and over her cold body.

She left the light on; maybe it would protect her from the nightmares she knew were coming.

* * *

><p><em>ONE WEEK LATER<em>

The monotonous drone of the many monitors around them caused her sad unease to fester. Juliet hugged her arms more tightly around her slight, shivering body. She'd forgotten her coat again. Someone had brought in a blanket, but she wasn't willing to move from her silent vigil at the bed to retrieve it.

The usual hospital sights and sounds and smells filled her head, but none of them really penetrated her awareness. They'd told her he was going to be okay now; Juliet shivered again. That thought alone should have been enough to erase the pain and the fear from her, but it wasn't. Despite any assurances, she was still forced to see him in the state he was in now. Pale, still.

Yet nothing was worse than those moments, days prior, during the event that put him here in the first place.

Anger at the broken soul who had brought the gun to Zachary High's last pep rally swamped her, consumed her. She had no idea what had happened to the student responsible for the horrors of that day, but she was torn between crying anew and wishing the most unspeakable evil imaginable on the shooter. A part of her demanded he be made to suffer, while another part ruefully acknowledged the young boy already did.

Juliet pushed it far from her mind, focusing her disjointed, hurting thoughts instead on the man in the bed. Despite her efforts, memories of _that day_ came flooding back to her, unbidden and jarring.

_The sharp blast of the gun's report slicing through the cheerful melody of the band's rendition. The screams that followed. The panic. _

_The student body rushing for cover, desperate to escape the building that once had been their shared mecca, now becoming their prison. _

She'd sought him out, her touchstone in times of desperation, only to realize later that it would be the reason for his brush with death.

_Her fault._

Juliet curled into a tighter ball on the chair. She remembered it all with unbearable clarity.

_Seeing him, ushering frightened students to safety, meeting his eyes, seeing in his that pure relief._

_The feel of his hand grabbing hers, and the feel of instantly knowing she was safe. _

Juliet felt the hot tears dragging down her face. She had to stop, had to regroup. She tried to forget, but there was a white noise building inside her head, making it hard for her to think of anything else. For one frightening second, she couldn't breathe, and it was like she was literally reliving those terrifying moments.

_Being trapped. _

_The exits unreachable where they were. Many people were fortunate enough to get out—their group was not among these. _

_Shouts. Screams. Some brave student trying for the gun. _

_The shooter's desperate plea for understanding as he raised the revolver again, aim falling amongst the small crowd of she and her peers. _

_Carpenter, without thought, lurching in front of her just before the retort of the gun echoed sharply through the halls. _

Someone must have smothered the violent student, or wrestled the gun away, because there was no more deafening gunfire on the air after that—not that she would have heard it had there been.

Everything had frozen in place for Juliet in that moment. The earth had ceased to spin, time stopped. Her breath had stilled and her heart had failed to beat. She held on to her sanity now by only a thread, it seemed—just as she had then—wrapping her arms around herself to hold on, afraid that if she let go, she'd fly apart into a million shards like glass.

_Staring in shock at her teacher staggering before her, reaching out for him as he swayed unsteadily. _

_Watching fleetingly as the other students finally poured out of the hall, escaping from the traitorous walls of the building she loathed more and more each day, before turning back to the man at her side who had stood between herself and death, selfishly taking the bullet meant for her._

Somehow, she'd managed to get them into the shelter of his classroom. She knew virtually nothing about medical procedure, but even she knew he wouldn't have been able to make it far with just her help.

_He slid to the floor and she went down to her knees with him. _

Juliet reached out, brushing her hand haltingly over his. It was no longer cold to the touch, nor was it so lifeless, even though he didn't move. It wasn't like she remembered it being. In the past several days, she'd touched him so much and so often, and yet now she could barely bring herself to squeeze his hand. Juliet shuddered.

_The dark red stain creeping rapidly across his lower chest. _

_Laying her hands over the open wound, feeling the wetness of the blood slipping through her fingers. There was so much of it. Speaking to him, in breathless words, as adrenaline pulsed through her body and pushed through her veins with the cold fear that slowly infused her. _

_In the background, hearing authoritative shouts, more people running, calls for assistance. But she listened to none of it; all her attention was focused on him. _

He'd had trouble breathing.

She recalled something the doctor had said about the damaged brachiocephalic vein, excessive blood loss, and suffering from hemothorax. In the hospital room, another tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped a hand across her tired eyes, staring at the salty wetness and picturing it redder.

_Alternating between staving off the blood flow—pressing harder, as if she could will the blood back into his body—and holding his hand. Waiting together for the ambulance to come. Waiting for anyone, please, anyone. _

_Him telling her that it was okay, that help would come, not to panic—_him_, the one who was dying._

She'd been so sure he was going to die.

Nearly OD'ing, the tension between she and her father, everything that Siobhan had put her through, all her friends abandoning her—and this had been the worst moment of her life. He was in so much pain and his first instinct had been to make sure that she would make it through.

Juliet focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sight a physical reminder that he would recover. The tension in her shoulders ebbed, and the grip of her fingers on her upper arms eased, her nails leaving behind little crescents in her skin. Her relaxed composure became a stark contrast to the images still invading her mind. All day and night, it repeated, like a broken record. When she closed her eyes, it was there, and she was certain it would be until she was looking into his again.

_Him being so calm she wanted to scream. _

_Her pleading voice dropping to a whisper as choking terror continued to overwhelm her. She didn't know how to help him; if she did nothing, if help did not come, she was going to lose him, right here on the floor of this classroom. She was going to lose him as he bled to death right in front of her. Numbing terror filled her at the thought of life without him. _

_Feeling his hand clutching back at hers, the tremors there, no pretense of staying guarded as all sense of appropriateness was lost. His head lolling against the wall which he was weakly propped against as if he didn't have the strength to hold it steady. _

And when he had finally lost consciousness, she thought she would cry his name until she had no voice left. Then the medics arrived, and took him away from her.

They wouldn't let her on the ambulance, wouldn't let her say goodbye before they rushed him into surgery, and wouldn't let her in his ICU room afterwards.

It was around the end of the second day, after they'd moved him, when she'd just started sneaking into his room. The nurse on duty must have taken pity on her, because around the third or fourth day, the woman finally stopped kicking her out.

Every night, her father came, coaxing her home to catch at least a few hours of sleep in her own bed before she inevitably returned to her elected seat in the soulless waiting room. First chair to the right of the main hall; closest to him.

Juliet watched him now, that awful oxygen mask finally removed. Seeing him there, so many IVs and monitors and the mask, had nearly been her undoing. Her chest throbbed and ached at the remembrance of the gutting sight. It had been so foreign and so terrifying.

C saved, he didn't need saving. But him lying there, so helpless, had left her broken in so many ways. And yet, in the moments of his looming exodus, Carpenter had been the one talking to her as she lost all composure. She remembered the feel of his limp body in her arms, remembered starting to hyperventilate from the stress and shock, her breath ragged and gasping. Watching as his eyes slid shut, perhaps for the last time.

She shuddered again, finally getting up to get the blanket draped over a chair on the other side of the room. The sun had just started to leak through the blinds of the window, silhouetting her body.

He'd woken up a few times in the past several days, but had been too tired or too inhibited by pain medication to really talk for long. So when she heard his suddenly clear, if tired, voice behind her, happiness so pure leapt up within her chest that she'd all but written off to never feel again.

"_What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun_."

Juliet turned around, a truly brilliant smile lighting up her face. The breaks in her heart instantly mended, every horrible image evaporating from her mind. There he was, cognizant, looking at her with bright eyes. She recalled his line from when he'd made the class read the play the week before. "How's the morphine, Romeo?" she asked.

"Better than I could have imagined," Carpenter grinned dazedly back. "_Thy drugs are quick_."

Juliet laughed, hurrying over to him.

* * *

><p>Before Andrew could enter the hospital room that afternoon, he heard laughter drifting out into the hall. When he stepped into the threshold, he saw his daughter sitting on the bed beside her teacher, a look of comic superiority on her face. A phone was in her hands, and she was tapping away at it with her fingers.<p>

Carpenter still looked tired, but Andrew was pleased to see him sitting up and smiling over her shoulder. "You're never going to touch my high score," the young man was saying.

Juliet ignored the remark. "How many birds do I have left?"

"Not enough," Carpenter replied smugly, and Juliet was laughing again. There was a crash from the phone, and she growled in mock outrage. Carpenter's answering chuckle was one of triumph.

Andrew felt a great sense of relief wash over him, and he was in no hurry to interrupt their collective joy. Too many of the nights previous had left him quite unsettled. Coming to the hospital every night to urge Juliet away from either the waiting room or her teacher's bedside—so many times he'd found her unconscious with exhaustion, curled dependently into Carpenter's comatose form on the bed. Each night, leaving her alone in her own room to sleep, only to return minutes later to hold her as she sobbed against him. Andrew grimaced at the upsetting memory.

"Hi, Daddy." Juliet's chirpy voice broke him out of his reverie.

Andrew looked up, two sets of eyes landing on him. He grinned, a little embarrassed to be caught hovering, and cleared his throat. "Hello." He gestured politely to Carpenter. "It's so good to see you well, Mr. Carpenter."

"Thank you," the younger man replied. He scowled a little. "The nurse won't let me eat anything yet today though."

Juliet looked amused. "Apparently, he's starving."

"I am."

"And higher than a kite."

Carpenter's smile was meant to assure him, Andrew assumed. "I'm not high anymore," the teacher said, borrowing her wording.

Juliet shrugged innocently. "If you say so."

In a vain effort to hide his own smile, Andrew interrupted them. "Juliet, would you mind if I had a word with Mr. Carpenter here?"

"Sure," Juliet replied, hopping up from the bed and shooting a backward look at the man there. "I'm taking this with me," she said matter-of-factly of the phone, disappearing out of the room a moment later.

Carpenter smiled a little, turning his eyes back to her father to nod respectfully. "Mr. Martin."

Andrew smiled back, hesitant. Despite his minor concerns, gratitude shone in his eyes. He wasted no time with the first order of business. "Thank you," he said with quiet ardency, "for saving my daughter."

Carpenter nodded. He still remembered the feel of her terror and her grief; and there were times it still hung like a cloud wrapped around them. He regretted that look of despair sometimes in her eyes, but compared to the alternative, he was glad of his actions. It had been one choice he would never regret. "It was mostly instinct, but I did promise her I would never let anything happen to her."

Andrew acknowledged this. The young man's pale visage and the way he still favored his injured side was evidence enough of his sacrifice. "I'm truly grateful for all the effort and caring you've given her over these past many months. Whether you believe so or not, you've helped her exponentially. Both Siobhan and I have noticed the wide difference." Carpenter's eyes showed relief and pride towards the absent girl, and Andrew smiled gently. "You care about her, and it shows. She needs that."

"I'll continue to do whatever I can for her," Carpenter told him sincerely.

Andrew nodded, and his hesitance rushed fully then to the surface. "You mean a lot to her. These past few days have been… well, to put it bluntly, she's been a veritable wreck." Andrew clasped his hands in front of himself, eyes retreating momentarily downward. Carpenter waited patiently, not sure what was to be said, but it was clear Juliet's father needed to gather himself to say it. Andrew looked up finally, remorse and discomfort roiling in his previously downcast eyes. "I hope this doesn't come across as being crass, but I fear it's inevitable… are you," he began, voice catching a little, "are you sleeping with my daughter?"

Carpenter's face showed a combination of surprise, discomfort, mild horror, and incredulous lack of understanding. When he finally spoke, the utterance was barely above a whisper. "What?"

Andrew's shoulders wilted a little in something resembling relief, and the tension dissipated from his form. He offered the man in the bed a feeble smile. "I'll take that as a no." Carpenter was at a complete loss for words, so Andrew continued, meaning to offer up some sort of explanation for his assumptions. "I apologize for that, but… you must understand… I have seen the way she looks at you. In addition to seeing you as this fairytale hero—which, given the circumstances, is not all that inaccurate—"

Carpenter laughed weakly, perhaps even a little self-deprecatingly, and averted his eyes.

Andrew's expression softened. "My daughter is in love with you."

Carpenter's gaze flew back to Andrew, reflecting something like fear. "With all due respect, Mr. Martin, I really don't think—"

"I shall offer you the same courtesy, Mr. Carpenter… with respect, I know that there are areas in her life in which I have failed Juliet. But she is my daughter, and I know her. I know her, and I see how she looks at you. She tries to hide it but she can't." _And neither can you_, Andrew thought to himself, _or at least you're better at it_.

Carpenter still looked thunderstruck, sitting there in silent shock, absorbing the news. He shook his head, a little helplessly, speaking quietly. "I don't know what to say."

Andrew nodded his understanding. "Indeed. I apologize, I didn't mean to burden you with all this. Especially here and now." He gestured around the room to indicate where they were and the weight the situation carried.

"No, it's…" Carpenter cleared his throat, still hesitant to meet the other man's eyes. "I suppose I needed to hear it."

"You understand my concerns?" Andrew asked. At the other man's hesitation, he elaborated. "I think there's nothing wrong with my daughter having a crush on a worthy subject; it is normal and I think almost healthy. But the outcome is what concerns me. If she is to get her heart broken… I fear it would undo your efforts to help her completely."

Carpenter's brow creased in confusion. "Mr. Martin, are you implying that you would support a… a _relationship_ between your daughter and I?"

Andrew had the decency to wince. "Yes, well… I wouldn't think it the most ideal situation, especially given all the surrounding factors and prevalent taboo—the largest being the most evident: teacher and student. But…" Andrew was clearly conflicted. "As I said, you are a good influence on her. She sees you as more than just a role model. You are her best friend. You care about her, you look out for her, you protect her. At the same time, you've never judged her." Andrew offered the other man a perceptive smile. In his experience, which was admittedly very little, there were three reasons for which a man took a bullet for a woman. Because he was her father, her brother, or her husband. And the latter could assume many other forms. Andrew thought he knew which one applied to his daughter and this man. "And, again with respect, I see the way you look at her as well." Before Carpenter could protest, Andrew held up a kind hand. "You are a good man, Mr. Carpenter. And I know that is why you've clearly never harbored any conscious thought of it. You respect Juliet and you would never think of taking advantage of her. I thank you for that. Another man in your position might've behaved differently." Andrew took a deep breath. "That said… I know you love her. I don't know if it's in the same manner she feels for you, but I see it. And… I am grateful for it. No matter what's to come of this, you need to know that. I'm aware the circumstances are not ideal, and I know that, if anything is to happen between you two, it will be a long time down the road. But keep in mind… if it's ever her father's blessing you're worried about," Andrew smiled, "that will never be an issue."

The two men remained in silence for several minutes before Andrew nodded, apparently satisfied with the conversation.

"I'll let you rest," he said. "I apologize again, but I felt it necessary to explain."

Carpenter nodded faintly. "I understand," he murmured. "I appreciate it."

Andrew stepped forward, laying a hand on the other man's shoulder and outstretching his other. "Thank you." Carpenter shook it, maneuvering as best he could to do so. Andrew withdrew, pointing a finger at him with an almost parental smile. "Get some sleep."

Carpenter laughed, still a little stunned, and was then left alone with the emptiness of the room to contemplate all that Andrew Martin had said. He needn't contemplate for long, because it was no more than a minute later that he heard a soft knock on his room entrance.

He looked over to see Juliet's smiling face. "Hi," she greeted cheerfully, apparently glad to see him looking so healthy yet. As though she still couldn't quite believe it.

Carpenter regarded her almost as though looking at her for the first time. "Hey," he replied softly. There was a look of somewhat whimsical bewilderment about him that she couldn't quite place, but decided to leave alone.

She trotted into the room, revealing what she had hidden behind her back. "Check it out, I snuck you some Jell-o."

Carpenter laughed at the tiny cup and the gelatinous red treat inside. "How'd you swing that?"

"Through a lot of espionage and wiles." She held up the spoon, a wicked little gleam in her eye. "Do you need me to feed you?"

Carpenter grinned back, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "I think I can manage," he retorted, holding out his hand. "Hand over the Jell-o."

Juliet did, then plopped into the chair beside his bed. "Have you tried the TV yet?"

Carpenter shook his head, peeling the foil from the plastic cup. "I haven't dared. It's afternoon and a weekday."

Juliet snickered in an all too perceptive way. "Soap central, huh?" She snagged the remote from the bedside stand. "Well, let's see if we can't find you a sports game or _Shakespeare in Love_."

He snorted at her banal assumption towards his preferences.

She had only been flipping through channels for a minute as he finished his lunch before she rose up from her seat. "Okay, this chair is like sitting on a brick stool," Juliet complained. "Scoot over."

Carpenter sighed indulgently and slid over on the bed as much as his injury would allow him to. It quickly turned into an all out laugh when he saw what she landed on with the remote. "Okay, how'd you know this was on?"

The first few scenes of _Shakespeare in Love_ filtered across the tiny screen.

Juliet shrugged and made a face, as though to say _please_. "Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes—I can smell them a mile away." She settled in against his side, dropping her head onto his shoulder. She was relieved to feel the last dredges of her desperation and anxiety finally disappear, her body truly relaxing for the first time in a week. This is what she had craved over the past several days—C's comfort, his strength, his presence. All the stress of those days went, so many emotional wounds healing with just a simple touch. She felt the warmth of his skin through the material of the hospital gown and released a soft sigh. "Plus, I looked at the schedule when you were asleep."

Above her, Carpenter smiled slightly. Raising his right hand, he stroked his fingers over her arm. Almost immediately he felt her body relax against his as physical and mental exhaustion started to overtake her. He felt her gentle exhalation and she shifted, causing him to wince a little.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, tucking her feet up and getting more comfortable as the television droned in front of them.

He shook his head. "No," he lied.

He felt the moment when she slid gently into sleep a little while later. He stared down at her, somehow at a loss, before a small smile tipped his lips.

_Shakespeare in Love_, Carpenter thought idly, gaze alternating between the television and the girl sharing his bed.

What was it about forbidden love?


End file.
